First Light in Morning Star

by Charlotte Hubbard

  And he wasn’t ready to talk about it when he got home, either.

  As he stomped into the kitchen, his mother looked up from the jars of pickled beets she was canning. “Did you ride over to the school to check on Lydianne, like you said—”

  “Let’s don’t go there, Mamm,” he muttered. “And I don’t want to be quizzed about it, all right?”

  Her eyebrows shot up, but she knew better than to challenge him. “All right, then. I’ll start supper as soon as I clean up the mess from these beets.”

  As he passed through the house and onto the back porch to nurse his hurt feelings, it occurred to Jeremiah that, despite Lydianne’s blatant refusal to go out with him, life would go on as it always had.

  And that was the problem, wasn’t it?

  Chapter Ten

  Shortly before noon on Friday, Lydianne heard the creak of buggy wheels. It was a special day, and when the scholars became aware of the arrival of horse-drawn rigs, their faces lit up.

  “Picnic!” Stevie whispered.

  “Jah, here come our mamms,” Gracie chimed in from the desk beside his.

  Lydianne smiled at her three youngest students, who’d been working diligently at printing the alphabet and their names. “You’ve come a long way this week,” she praised them, “so now we get some time to enjoy lunch with your mothers.

  “Scholars,” she said as she looked around the classroom, “let’s set aside whatever you’re working on—but leave it on your desks for your mamms to look at when they come in. We want them to see that we’ve been as busy as bees this week!”

  Moments later Julia Nissley peeked in the doorway, and Ella glowed like a September sunrise. “Mamma! Mamma, come see the words I wrote—all by myself!” she crowed.

  “Welcome,” Lydianne called out as Delores Flaud and Cora Miller appeared at the door. “Take a look at our projects and then we’ll be ready to join you for lunch—and denki for feeding us all today!”

  Soon the schoolroom was abuzz with mothers looking at their children’s papers from the week. Rose Wagler arrived with Leah Shetler—both of them round with babies due later this month. Leah’s adopted baby, Betsy, kicked happily in her carrier as she gazed around the room. The two young mothers were eager to see the pictures Gracie and Stevie had colored, as well as their early attempts at printing the alphabet on their wide-lined tablets.

  After a few more minutes passed, Lydianne went to stand beside Billy Jay, who was growing worried. “Mammi said she’d be here, but I hope she didn’t get lost—or get sick again, or—”

  “She’ll arrive any minute now,” Lydianne assured him. His grandmother was a busy lady, running the household while tending baby Levi, so all manner of things could’ve detained her before she left the house with her picnic basket.

  When Billy Jay darted over to the window to watch the road, however, his face lit up. “It’s Dat! My dat’s comin’ instead of Mammi,” he announced jubilantly. “How cool is that?”

  Although Lydianne was relieved and excited for Billy Jay, she—and the mothers in the room—looked at each other in surprise. Traditionally, the scholars’ mamms brought lunch to the school every now and again; who could’ve guessed that Glenn would take his deceased wife’s place? All eyes were on him and all smiles got wide when he walked through the doorway.

  As Glenn sought out his son, who ran joyously to jump into his embrace, Lydianne thought he looked roguish— rather defiant—wearing large sunglasses beneath a black fedora that didn’t follow the usual style for men’s hats in their district. When Glenn focused on her—or at least his dark, opaque sunshades turned in her direction and lingered for several moments—the other women’s faces took on speculative expressions.

  “Gut to see you, Glenn,” Delores ventured. “Is Elva not feeling well?”

  His black beard shifted with his smile. “Mamm’s fine, but Levi’s taken a colicky turn, so she stayed home with him,” he replied smoothly.

  “So, it’s just you and me, Dat!” Billy Jay put in happily. As though he suddenly realized that he might resemble a toddler, being in his father’s arms, he climbed down and stood proudly alongside him instead. “Let’s go out and dig into the picnic basket! I’m ready for some of that chicken Mammi was fryin’ up this morning.”

  “Jah, let’s eat,” Stevie chimed in. “But first, I’ll race ya around the bases, Billy Jay! Last one back’s a rotten egg!”

  The two boys took off like a shot, and Lydianne couldn’t fault them for their excitement. As everyone headed outside to the shaded picnic tables, several of the women noticed they weren’t made from conventional materials.

  Glenn beamed, running his hand over the smooth surface of the nearest table. As he explained how he’d come to build the tables from maintenance-free deck materials, Lydianne helped Leah find a level spot to set Betsy’s carrier. The Flaud sisters came out from the school’s lower level pulling a small wagon between them, which held five-gallon coolers of lemonade and ice water. By the time the mamms had unpacked their food and arranged it for serving, one entire picnic table was covered with casserole pans that smelled delectable, as well as a few chilled salads and an array of desserts.

  “What a feast,” Lydianne remarked. “Denki to everyone for making our first picnic such a special—and delicious—event. How about if you youngest scholars and your mamms go first?”

  Stevie and Billy Jay lost no time picking up plates and choosing from the fried chicken, sandwiches, fruity gelatin salad, and potato salad. As the boys snatched up brownies and cookies, Ella and Gracie got in line with their mothers, and then the Millers and the Flauds filled their plates. Was it Lydianne’s imagination, or had Glenn hung back so he could stand beside her—and possibly sit with her as they ate? Once again, she noticed that Delores and Cora were glancing at them with speculative expressions on their faces.

  Lord, you’ve got to help me set Glenn straight in a polite but no-nonsense way, she prayed, as she chose a slice of meat loaf, some chicken, and a warm dinner roll. His new look unnerved her, because even in the shade he’d left his sunglasses on, which made it impossible for her to read his eyes.

  Maybe you’ve got it wrong. Glenn might’ve had a bad night with the baby and he’s shielding his tired eyes from the bright sun. Maybe you’re just assuming he’s wearing that rakish fedora to attract your—

  “How about if we sit over on that blanket I spread under the tree?” he murmured, pressing his arm against hers.

  Alarms went off in her mind. When she noticed a spot on the end of a picnic table across from Julia Nissley, she replied, “Denki, Glenn, but I’d like to speak with Ella’s mamm while she’s here. Your tables are a big hit!” she added to soften her response.

  Fortunately, when the boys saw that Glenn was finally ready to eat, Billy Jay waved his arms above his head. “Dat, we saved ya some room at the guys’ table!” he called out.

  Glenn nodded subtly at Lydianne as he headed toward his son, but she had a feeling he wasn’t taking her no for a final answer. As she approached the spot near Julia, she hoped her cheeks weren’t as red as they felt. This wasn’t the time or place for Glenn’s flirtation—she could already see the wheels turning in some of these women’s minds—but she didn’t want to call him on it in front of these other parents.

  “We’ve had a wonderful first week of school, ain’t so, Ella?” Lydianne asked as she sat down across from Julia and her daughter. “It makes such a difference that you’ve encouraged Ella to practice her alphabet on paper, and that she knows what sounds all the letters make.”

  Julia flashed her little girl a pleased smile. “We like to play school,” she said. “What with Ella not having brothers or sisters, she spends time with her tablet and a pencil at the kitchen table while I’m preparing our meals.”

  Her reply painted a fond mental picture for Lydianne. “I played school with my older sisters when I was little,” she remarked as she picked up a crispy fried chicken leg.

  Lydianne’s
food didn’t quite make it to her mouth, however. She swallowed hard when she—and the others—spotted a familiar, dapple-gray Percheron approaching the schoolyard.

  Of all the times for the bishop to show up. Will he invite me to his family reunion again, figuring I won’t refuse him in front of all these witnesses?

  * * *

  As Jeremiah approached the schoolyard, he caught Lydianne’s gaze and held it. She seemed startled by his appearance, yet not as afraid as when he’d asked her to the Shetler reunion.

  Afraid? She’d looked downright terrified when she blurted, “No, I can’t!” And why was that?

  Again and again over the past four days, he’d replayed her rejection in his mind, and he still had no answers. Jeremiah couldn’t believe Lydianne was intimidated by his role as the bishop, because she’d known him in that capacity ever since she’d come to Morning Star. And she’d been engaged before, so she surely wasn’t afraid of socializing with—or committing to—a man she loved. He’d come to the school picnic to see how she was doing while the presence of the scholars’ mothers would provide her a social safety net.

  Then he spotted Detweiler.

  As though Glenn was hoping to avoid answering the obvious question about why he was there, he rose quickly from the table he was sharing with Billy Jay and Stevie. When he said something, gesturing toward the ball diamond, the two boys lit up with excitement and raced ahead of him. Kate Flaud, Linda Miller, and little Ella Nissley followed them.

  Jeremiah returned the ladies’ waves as he dismounted and hitched Mitch at the rail. Something struck him as odd—

  Why’s Glenn wearing a black fedora and dark shades?

  He recalled images from a movie poster years ago, which had featured two English fellows dressed in suits—singers, they were—who wore the same sort of hats and sunglasses. He filed this away for later consideration as Delores hailed him with a paper plate in her hand.

  “Bishop, you’re just in time to join our picnic!” she called out.

  “Jah, you’re lucky!” Gracie crowed. “We didn’t eat all of the chicken or meat loaf, so there’s still some for you!”

  Jeremiah smiled at the Wagler girl, returning the nods of the women who were welcoming him. “It was very nice of you to save me some, Gracie,” he said as he surveyed the array of pans and platters on the table. “I thought I’d come out to see how school was going—and because I’d heard the mamms were treating you to a picnic lunch today.”

  “School is gut!” Gracie exclaimed. “We all love Teacher Lydianne coz she’s teachin’ us how to read!”

  Jeremiah considered this a valid excuse for focusing on Lydianne, to assess her reaction to his presence. “I’m not surprised,” he said as he filled his plate with meat loaf and potato salad. “When you put a fine teacher in a classroom with enthusiastic scholars, wonderful-gut things are sure to happen.”

  When he’d selected the rest of his food, Jeremiah eased into the open spot between Julia and Cora, which put him across the table from Lydianne and the older scholars. “And how about you girls? Is your final year of classes off to a promising start?”

  Lucy and Lorena nodded eagerly. “We’re in charge of keeping the classroom tidy and changing the wall displays,” Lorena remarked happily.

  “And we’ll be helping the younger kids with their math facts and spelling while Teacher Lydianne is working with the other scholars,” Lucy put in. “Teacher Lydianne says we’ll be doing a lot of writing this year, too—”

  “Because if you can write clear, well-constructed sentences and stories, it means your thought process is clear and logical, as well,” Lorena finished proudly.

  Jeremiah smiled. These two girls obviously idolized Lydianne and seemed much more enthusiastic about school than they’d been in the past. “Every now and again I get remarks about my sermons shooting off in lots of different directions—like squirrels in search of nuts—so maybe I should take some writing lessons alongside you girls,” he remarked as he spread butter on his bread.

  The women around him laughed—except for Lydianne, who appeared very self-conscious as she focused on her food. Why did she seem so nervous around him?

  “I can’t imagine anyone criticizing your sermons that way, Bishop,” Cora put in kindly.

  “Neither can I,” Julia insisted. “It’s a rare gift you have, to stand in front of a roomful of folks and preach about our beliefs, or about what went on in Bible times—especially without any notes or preparation. I certainly couldn’t do that.”

  “Me neither,” Rose agreed. “I’ve always been thankful that, as a woman, I’ll never be called upon to deliver sermons.”

  “Amen to that,” Delores chimed in.

  A movement off to the side of the table caught Jeremiah’s attention—and when Lydianne turned her head to see what it was, she seemed to curl further in upon herself. Glenn had come over to the large coolers to fill a glass with lemonade. He nodded briefly at Jeremiah, but he took his sweet time about holding Lydianne’s gaze as he drank half a glassful of the cool liquid before topping it off with more.

  Jeremiah filed this moment away for later, too. Something had apparently passed between Detweiler and Lydianne earlier—something that had put her on edge. And once again that sly green-eyed monster—envy—reared its ugly head within him.

  Glenn’s entering forbidden territory, wearing English getup and giving Lydianne such an obvious, shameless once-over—mere weeks after losing his wife. As his bishop, you’re responsible for setting this errant member straight before he wanders too far down the path to perdition.

  He made quick work of the rest of his meal and excused himself, thanking the ladies for the lunch he’d shared with them. He figured it was best to let Teacher Lydianne resume her school day as soon as possible, without two men circling her like dogs snarling over a choice bone.

  And why did he feel that way? It was wrong to disparage Glenn or to compete against him for Lydianne’s attention—especially when she’d stated she didn’t want to date either one of them. Yet, uncomfortable emotions crowded out his usual goodwill toward a member of his flock who needed his emotional support more than ever.

  That evening, as the men gathered on his front porch for their weekly singing, Jeremiah watched with interest as Glenn and his father stepped down from their rig. They were the picture of Amish propriety in their black straw hats, suspenders, and broadfall trousers worn over purple short-sleeved shirts cut from the same bolt of cloth.

  Jeremiah had no intention of letting Glenn’s earlier apparel go unnoticed, however. “I was surprised to see you at the school picnic today,” he remarked nonchalantly as the Detweiler men ascended the porch steps.

  Glenn shrugged. “Billy Jay no longer has a mamm, so I went in her place. Why were you there?”

  Detweiler might as well have waved a red blanket in front of a bull, the way Jeremiah’s adrenaline level rose to his challenge. Even Saul, Matthias, and the Flauds, already seated in porch chairs, were wide-eyed at Glenn’s tone of voice.

  “I’m a school board member,” Jeremiah reminded him carefully, keeping his irritation in check. He hadn’t planned to call Glenn out in front of the other men, yet it occurred to him that perhaps this conversation was best held with witnesses present. “As your bishop, I have to wonder why you were wearing that fedora and those dark, opaque sunshades, Glenn. It reminded me of that movie about the Blues Brothers—and it seemed you were setting a very English example in front of our scholars.”

  “Can’t a man have a little fun?” Glenn shot back. “And I have to wonder why you seem to show up at the schoolhouse every time I’m there. If you’re trying to discourage my relationship with Lydianne—”

  “I think you’re on the rebound too soon after losing your wife,” Jeremiah put in firmly. “I’m concerned about your emotional well-being—”

  “—it’s because you want her for yourself, jah?” Glenn challenged in a rising voice. “Don’t you dare criticize my need for a
new wife, Jeremiah! When you lost Priscilla, you weren’t left alone to raise two kids. Gutness knows you’ve had plenty of time to win Lydianne since then—and meanwhile, you don’t have to listen to your son crying himself to sleep every night!”

  Jeremiah gripped the arms of his wicker porch chair, alarmed at the escalation of their contentious conversation. He was acting like the dog in the manger from Aesop’s fable, snapping at Detweiler to prevent his access to Lydianne—even though she didn’t want to be with him, either. It was an improper frame of mind for any man, and as a bishop he needed to rise above it.

  “Gentlemen, I think we should take time out for a word of prayer,” Deacon Saul suggested quietly.

  “From what I’ve just overheard, I agree with your assessment, Saul,” Preacher Ammon Slabaugh said as he approached the porch to join everyone. He studied Glenn and then focused on Jeremiah, planting his hands on his hips. “I don’t need to know all the particulars to hear the strife and bitterness that’s come between you and Glenn, Jeremiah. We won’t be fully able to sing our praises to the Lord while this disagreement hangs over us like a storm cloud.”

  Jeremiah exhaled sharply. He knew Ammon was right—but he didn’t like it much. “Jah, let’s pray for wisdom and guidance,” he agreed, focusing on Detweiler. “If we lose track of our intention to put God first, our priorities get out of kilter and our relationships with Him and each other suffer. Denki for pointing this out, Saul and Ammon.”

  He bowed his head, yet even as silence enveloped him, Jeremiah’s thoughts were far from prayerful. Did Glenn truly feel he had to raise Billy Jay and baby Levi alone, even though his parents had moved in with him so they could help him every single day? And did Billy Jay really cry for his mother at night? If anything, Jeremiah sensed that since the beginning of school, the seven-year-old had rediscovered his sense of excitement—his joy—and that he was recovering pretty well from the loss of his mother.

  But it’s not my place to guess what’s happening with Glenn or to judge him for it, Lord, Jeremiah reminded himself. Help me to mind my words and thoughts.